


Heavenly Creatures

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Mutual Pining, existential sexuality, since I'm not sure what else to call it, what if christmas hallmark au but also they are eldritch creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: “So,” he said, drawing out the word. “Your last mission, huh?”“Angelic act,” she said with a roll of her eyes.“Angelic act, then. That’s a big deal.”“It is. Few angels have accomplished it.” Even just saying the words helped return the pride to her voice. She instinctively straightened her back and raised her chin.“You get to make a wish, right?”Yes. One selfish wish.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Heavenly Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much to Stillscape and Arsenicpanda for being my last minute betas!!

Betty had expected her final assignment to be a challenging one, but she found herself dumbfounded as she visited the small town of Riverdale less than a week before Christmas to find no holiday decorations in place at all. Walking down Main Street, no one would have been able to guess the season was upon them. The only sign that Christmas celebrations were underway was a large, lone tent set up in the lawn out by the town hall, where Betty found a young woman pushing boxes along on a moving cart.

The woman's auburn hair looked frayed from overexertion, loose curls slipping out of the clips in her hair onto her face. As soon as she saw Betty approach, she brought the cart to a stop, sounding breathless when she said, “Are you here to visit the Christmas tent? Sorry, but we’re still putting it together.”

“Yes, exactly,” Betty said brightly. “I’m here to help.”

“Oh,” said the young woman, looking surprised. “Did Mayor Lodge send you?”

“I’m Betty.” She put her hand out, comfortably letting the question go unanswered.

The young woman slid a glove off her hand and reached out to shake Betty’s. “Ethel. So glad to finally have some help!”

“Is it just you?” Betty asked, looking over the collection of boxes decorating the otherwise completely abandoned tent.

“No, well, today, yes—” Ethel admitted. “I had help with putting up the tent, and we’ve got some people volunteering to set up the big tree in front of the town hall later this week.” As if motivated by the amount of work that had to be done, Ethel promptly started to unload the boxes from her cart into the tent. Betty stepped forward and helped her lift one of the boxes.

“It’s unfortunate that Mayor Lodge had to go up to New York for the holiday,” Ethel continued. “She usually helps with all the organizing this time of year.”

“Well,” Betty said definitively, “I’ll help you make it a success in any way I can.”

As they unloaded boxes together, separating out the large display decorations from the ornaments for the large town tree, Betty listened to Ethel talk all about Riverdale. She spoke of it with pride and warmth, even as she spoke of her disappointment in how the holidays had fallen through this year. Not only had the Mayor gone out of town, but the band that had performed for the past three years had recently moved to the big city.

“I haven’t even had the chance to talk to the local businesses about coming out on Christmas Eve and serving food, like they usually do,” Ethel sighed.

“I can do it,” Betty said brightly. “Just leave it to me.”

Ethel looked at her thoughtfully. “I need to go get more boxes from storage, and I only have one cart. Toni’s coffee shop is just down the street. You can’t miss it.”

  
  
  


As she walked down the cobblestone street, Betty knew she was approaching the coffee shop first by the nice aroma flooding her senses. It was a cute shop with a vintage style and a large counter that ran around the kitchen. Betty was pleased to see a small Christmas tree decorated in the window.

As she stepped inside, Betty’s heart dropped with a strange feeling of foreboding. Almost immediately, she was able to find the source of the sensation.

Seated at the counter, leaning over a warm cup of coffee, was a human form Betty knew she would recognize anywhere. With each breath, he radiated a wave of unnatural heat, and no matter the time of year, he always had the scent of burnt leaves in autumn. As if feeling her stare, the demon Jughead turned around to meet her gaze. Recognition sparked in his eyes almost immediately.

“Ah,” he said, the words discerning, “the Christmas festival.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen you around before,” said the sweet voice of a young woman on the other side of the counter, her pink hair twisted up in a messy bun and a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Are you new to town?”

“Just arrived. I’m helping out with the festival,” Betty announced cheerfully, looking past Jughead as though he was no more than a figment of her imagination.

As usual, it was a role he had no interest in playing. “This is Betty. We’re old friends,” he added, as though this was both true and information worth sharing. 

“I know Ethel could really use the help. Glad you’re here, Betty.” Toni was direct but friendly in a way that Betty instantly liked.

“Me too,” Betty said.

“How about you get her one of those cinnamon hot chocolates, Toni. Extra cream,” Jughead interrupted, patting the counter next to him.

Toni gave a teasing two fingered salute and turned toward the back counter.

As Betty slid into the stool next to him, she whispered under her breath. “You don’t even need food for sustenance.”

Jughead gave a low hum before answering, “It’s cold this time of year, gotta conserve heat somehow. Coffee. Food. Works well enough for me.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I like the coffee.”

She gave him a cold look. “In Riverdale. Are you here to interfere?”

“Betty, when have I ever interfered with your...” He bounced fingers together while he settled on his word choice. “Missions?”

“Heavenly acts,” she corrected under her breath.

 _Plenty of times_ , she thought. Maybe not directly, but she could remember numerous instances in the last decade alone. The time he had convinced her to walk out on the beach with him to feel the waves, when she had a tense family reunion to oversee. The time he had preoccupied her attention by pulling her into a heated debate, causing her to completely miss the beleaguered human she had been hoping to aid. The time he had moved a strand of hair from her face with one, slow stroke of his hand in such a way that she was distracted by the memory of it for the rest of the month. 

Oh, Jughead was cunning in his approach, but he was a demon all the same.

“Then why,” she repeated, enunciating each word, “are you here?”

He shrugged. “I like Riverdale. I come here all the time. You’re the one that’s raining on my parade.” He glanced back out the window toward the main street just within eyesight. “So to speak.”

“It can’t just be a coincidence that you happen to be here,” she said, still eying him skeptically.

Jughead hummed, taking a sip of his coffee before speaking. “From what I’ve seen, most coincidences happen when someone’s made a mistake.” Then, he glanced back over to her, brazenly eying her up and down. “So, probably not.”

Betty fought back the warmth spreading up her cheeks, but before she could think of a sharp retort, Toni was back with a large mug in hand. It was a beautiful mug with snowflakes painted along the rim, overflowing with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

“Oh, thank you,” Betty said politely. She lifted the mug, inspecting its contents skeptically. 

Toni watched her with a funny look. Jughead rolled his eyes and said, “Just drink it, Betty.”

Betty took a sip, if only to be polite to Toni. The drink was warm and deep, sweet with hints of spice. As she swallowed her first mouthful, she licked the cream from the corners of her mouth and unexpectedly made a loud pop with her lips. Now Toni and Jughead were both looking at her with amusement.

“Thank you. It’s lovely,” she said, hoping the moment would end.

“Sure thing,” Toni said with a smile. Until Toni turned away from them toward the counter, Betty hadn’t even remembered why she’d come into the coffee shop. Jughead’s presence had thrown her off completely.

“Oh, but—” she began, and Toni turned back toward her with a look of curiosity. “Ethel told me you served drinks during the festival last year. Would you be willing to sell drinks out by the tent on Christmas Eve?”

“I’ll need help setting up,” Toni answered, manner-of-fact.

“Of course!” Betty leaned forward eagerly. “Whatever you need!”

“Then you’ve got yourself a deal,” Toni said with a smile.

Betty sat back down and took another sip of her hot chocolate, this time with eagerness. She didn’t put it down until the cup was drained. If anything, it tasted even better than her first sip.

With her small mission accomplished, she hopped down from her stool to leave. Jughead hadn’t stopped watching her for a moment, and as she walked out the door, out of the corner of her eye she saw him throw down a few dollar bills on the counter before following after her.

At first, she sped forward, determined to ignore him, but with his long stride, he kept up with her even at a lazy pace. She came to a stop abruptly, her heels clacking together, then rounded on him. “Don’t you dare get in my way. If all goes well, this will be my last act as an angel, and this town deserves a nice Christmas.”

Jughead didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her outburst. His eyebrows drew together into a look of confusion. “What do you mean, your last act?”

“Exactly what I said. This is my last one.”

“What, you’ve actually done your seven million acts or whatever?”

“Yes, this will be my seven million, seven hundred and seventy-seventh thousand, seven hundred and seventy-seventh act as an angel of Heaven,” she said boldly, and then added with pride, “Very few angels have reached it.”

“Hm,” Jughead answered, his tone neutral.

Betty bristled at his detached reaction. She turned away from him, and headed directly for the tent. She could hear him following her, but refused to give him another passing of thought.

Ethel had returned to the tent with a new set of boxes she had already started to unload. She was untangling long strings of lights and laying them out across the ground.

“Oh, hello, Jughead,” Ethel said brightly as soon as they entered the tent. Betty looked between Ethel and Jughead, briefly glancing at him over her shoulder as he gave Ethel a quick wave.

“Hi, Ethel,” he said casually.

“Does everyone in this town know you?” Betty asked sharply.

Jughead looked nonplussed. “It’s a small town.”

Instead of interrogating him further, Betty marched over to a box of decorations and carried them out of the tent. Jughead followed her.

“Why do you keep following me?” she huffed. “You’re clearly friends with everyone in this town. Go bother someone else.”

“And miss my chance at witnessing an angel’s last angelic act?”

He was teasing her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She took a length of tinsel out of the box and began wrapping it around the length of a nearby lamp post.

“Can’t you just… snap your fingers and have all these decorations up?”

Betty had to lean forward on the tips of her toes to loop the tinsel around the section of the pole above her head. “Yes, but that’s not the point. If it’s already all done, everyone will feel like they don’t have anything to contribute. If they see people working on it, they’ll be more motivated to help out.”

Beside her, Jughead sighed and put a hand out.

“What?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m taller than you, I can do this part. I’m sure there’s other stuff waiting for your magic touch.”

“You’re going to sabotage it somehow.”

“You _just_ said you wanted more people to help out.” 

Betty bit back the rest of her argument and looked back at the light of the lamp post, far out of her reach. She handed the end of the tinsel over to him. 

“I’ll see if Ethel has a ladder.”

  
  


By the time that the sun was setting, each of the lamp posts down the main street were decorated with tinsel, lights, and a nice fake poinsettia flower just under the lamp. As Betty proudly observed their hard work, she watched as collections of people walked by without acknowledgement or even a smile. As she waved goodbye to Ethel, her breath visible in the cold air, she couldn’t help but feel vaguely despondent. She considered continuing forward without Ethel, but felt disheartened at the thought

Jughead walked up to her side, warmth radiating off him like a lit hearth. “C’mon,” he said, nudging her arm with his elbow. “You might as well meet more of the locals. I know the most popular place in Riverdale.”

Betty could see what place Jughead was taking her to when they were still several blocks away. Against the evening sky, it shone like a beacon under a tall sign that read _Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe._

“Do you only go to places in this town that serve food?” she huffed as they walked across the busy parking lot. 

Jughead acted like he hadn’t heard her, and instead moved to open the door for her, motioning her in with a hunched bow. “Milady,” he teased.

As soon as Betty stepped inside, she was nearly swallowed up by the frenetic energy of the packed diner. Nearly all of the tables were full, each party engaged in eager, bright conversation. The diner was fully decorated for the season, lights hanging from each window, and a large tree taking up the corner by the jukebox, which sang out holiday tunes just loud enough to hear over the chatter of the guests.

She didn’t realize that she had frozen in place until Jughead put a hand on her lower back and guided her forward to the pathway between the booths. He spotted an open booth and directed her toward it, sitting down across from her as soon as she had settled.

“You were right, this place is popular,” she admitted.

“People gather where there is good food,” he teased, tapping the side of nose.

“That doesn’t explain you,” she said loftily. She picked up the menu just to have something to do with her hands. Being alone with Jughead always left her on edge, but she could never quite persuade herself to avoid him.

“Well, hello there, Jughead,” said a warm, welcoming voice as a man in the crisp white diner uniform came up beside them with an order sheet in his hand. “Is this the Miss Betty that I’ve heard so much about?”

Her first instinct was to stare at Jughead in defensive confusion. She could hardly imagine a situation that would call for him talking to a human local about her before she had even come to town.

Jughead gave her a brief, cool look before answering, “Yep, our very own Christmas miracle. Betty, in the flesh. She’s determined to make this Christmas the best one yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the man said with a laugh.

“Pop here is the resident Santa Claus of Riverdale,” Jughead informed her. 

She immediately brightened, sitting forward to look Pop in the eyes. “Are you really?”

“Yes,” Pop said with a smile. “Still got the costume hanging in my closet.”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands together, imploring. “Would you be willing to join us at the tent on Christmas Eve for a small festival? We can’t celebrate without Santa Claus.”

Pop reached to pat her on the shoulder. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t miss it! Now, in the meantime, what can I get you two to eat?”

Before she could say anything, Jughead cut her off. “She’ll have the grilled cheese and a fruit salad. I’ll have the usual, with an extra order of fries. And to drink, a vanilla shake for her, strawberry for me.”

Pop jotted down the order as a series of quick strokes across the page and closed his notebook with the snap of his wrist. “Coming right up. Betty, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, you too!” she answered with an eager smile.

When she turned back in her seat, she caught Jughead looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read. 

“Well, he is wonderful. Clearly,” she said, looking for something to focus on besides the way Jughead’s intense gaze was making her start to sweat.

“Glad you came?” he asked, his tone warm but amused.

“The food is unnecessary.”

“You’ll like it. People feel weird when they’re around someone they’ve never seen eat anything.”

“That’s not true.” Her mouth involuntarily scrunched up into a frown.

“Sure, it is. Which of us do you think understands blending in with humans more?” He motioned a finger between them.

“Well, obviously,” she said, dismissively. “You’re the demon.”

“And I’m right.”

Jughead flagged down the waitress passing by with a full pot, sliding one of the extra mugs from the other side of the booth so that she could fill the cup. Betty watched as he meticulously opened a small container of cream and stirred it in with a spoon. He went through the motions like a well-practiced routine.

She would never admit it to him, but she loved having the opportunity to study him like this. Betty had never understood attraction in human terms; even after all this time, humans still looked so strange to her. That included her own human form when she visited Earth. Her human form encased her angelic body, and often felt like a glove that didn’t quite fit: tight in the wrist, and with an inexplicable extra finger space she could make no sense of. 

Somehow, Jughead was different. He breathed in his human form. Even now, as he took a sip of coffee, she could see traces of him under his human cheekbones, in the blink of his eyes. Jughead was generally sullen and languid, but at his most animated, his demon form would bleed into his human face, his eyes too bright, his skin too red, his teeth too big to be fully contained by his human mouth. 

To see it gave her an odd sensation. Warm, like the nostalgia of seeing an old friend. It was comforting being in the presence of someone not entirely human. Like herself.

“What are you thinking about?”

She’d let the moment go on too long, and he’d noticed her staring. Betty turned away sharply, focusing instead on the people gathered in the diner. “You were right, this place is popular.”

“You already said that.” His eyebrow was arched into a look of humored bewilderment, only furthering her embarrassment. She kept her mouth shut and pretended as though she hadn’t heard him.

“So,” he said, drawing out the word. “Your last mission, huh?”

“Angelic act,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Angelic act, then. That’s a big deal.”

“It is. Few angels have accomplished it.” Even just saying the words helped return the pride to her voice. She instinctively straightened her back and raised her chin.

“You get to make a wish, right?”

_Yes. One selfish wish._

“All angels dream of having the chance to sit at God’s side in heaven for the rest of eternity,” she answered, tightly.

Jughead trailed a spoon around the inner edge of his cup, staring at the ripples it made in his coffee. “So that’s what you’re going to wish for?”

Betty swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Yes, of course.” 

The sound of the people around them did nothing to cover the tense silence that sat between them. Jughead was still staring down at his coffee cup, while worrying the inside of his mouth with his tongue in mid-thought. When he opened his mouth to speak, Betty could see that his demon form was starting to bleed through; his lips had to curl around the large incisors protruding from the side of his mouth.

Betty was watching him so intently that she was thrown completely when a tray of food was loudly placed on the table in front of them. It broke the tense bubble of their booth. Betty’s senses were flooded with the sounds of the diner, much louder than they had seemed only moments before.

“Enjoy,” said a new waiter quickly before moving onto another table. 

As Jughead set one of the plates in front of her, she could smell the salty, golden warmth of the grilled cheese sandwich, with hints of sweetness from the fruit placed around it.

Jughead watched as she took a small bite out of the corner of the sandwich and, seeming satisfied, focused on the burger in front of him. It was hard to stop eating once she started; the crip toast was a nice contrast to the stringy melted cheese. Before she realized it, she had finished half of it.

“Don’t forget your milkshake.” Jughead slid the tall glass in front of her. She gave him the briefest annoyed glance, but dutifully took a sip. It was good. Sweet, silky, with the distinct seasonal flavor of vanilla. Begrudgingly, she pulled the glass closer and took a longer sip.

For the first time since their food had arrived, Jughead responded with a small smile. 

Before long, Jughead had cleared his plate and picked at any remaining food she had left. He had also managed to pressure her into eating two handfuls of french fries.

“Do you have a place to sleep or are you just going to perch atop a rooftop somewhere?” he asked candidly as he finished off the last bit of her milkshake.

“I’ll find somewhere,” she shrugged.

“You can stay with me. I’ll even give you the bed.”

Betty eyed him for a moment. “Stay with you… where?” She’d never given much thought about where Jughead spent his time at night. Betty returned to the heavens once her assignment was over, but demons didn’t have a centralized location from what she knew. They were just _around_.

“My house, Betty. I have a house in Riverdale.”

  
  


She pestered him with questions the entire walk from the diner to his house several blocks away. 

_Why do you have a house?_ “I need some place to stay, don’t I?”

 _How long have you had a house?_ “If you ask anyone, they’ll say I’m the third Forsythe Jones to live here. It’s been passed down three generations. The Jones men just happen to look a lot alike.”

“Why do you have so many human things?” she asked when he let her inside. The house was a comfortably-sized one-story cottage. The combined living room and kitchen made up most of the home, the former of which was covered with shelves of books and films. Inexplicably, he had a few movie posters framed up on the wall.

“What exactly do you angels do up in the heavens? Sing hymns at all hours of the day?”

“We watch the heavens,” she said simply as she leaned down to study the titles of books along the closest shelf. 

“You can do that on Earth.” His tone was oddly petulant.

“It’s not the same,” she insisted. Then she said, “You haven’t decorated at all.”

When she turned around to look at him, he gave her a long, beleaguered stare. “Will that get in the way of you sleeping tonight?”

“No,” she admitted.

“I’ll get the bedroom ready for you,” he said, and promptly left her to stare at his collection of books.

  
  
  
  


Waking up in a human body was something Betty had never quite adjusted to. When she woke up, she felt discombobulated, twisted around like the blankets she’d been sleeping in. Her mirror reflection never felt right. She had often wondered if other heavenly beings could see her under her human flesh, within the ridges of her bones. She wondered how Jughead saw her.

Jughead was still sleeping when she made her way out into the living room. He was stretched out across the couch, his foot angled over the side of the arm rest. In sleep, he looked defenseless. His demon qualities were bleeding through: more eyes than a human, nails too sharp, horns poking out from under his messy locks of hair. He had a tail stretching out from under him, resting motionless across the carpet. She didn’t bother to wake him before she left. 

Betty made her way to the town hall, breathing in the brisk morning. Ethel was already there when she arrived, but with a new companion, bundled in winter clothes and smiling brightly despite the early morning.

Ethel introduced her to Betty as Midge, and soon the three of them were together unpacking the boxes of ornaments and organizing them into stacks. Small ornaments for the Christmas tree they were going to set up under the tent, large ornaments for the town tree that would be assembled the next day.

Stacked up with the pieces of the fake trees, Betty found a decorative display arch covered in tinsel and lights. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she decided to set it up outside of the tent. After some help from Ethel, she found a few batches of mistletoe and a stepstool. 

Betty was standing on the second level of the stepping stool, attaching the mistletoe to the overhanging garland, when she heard Jughead join them.

“What’s all this going to be?”

“A photo area,” she answered, giving him the barest glance. He was taking a sip from a large travel mug in his hand. _Did he ever stop eating?_

Resolutely looking away from him, Betty focused on tying the ribbon around the top side of the garland, but misjudged the height, wobbling slightly on her feet. Before she lost her balance, Jughead was at her side, hand steady on the handrail of the stool.

“Easy there,” he teased softly. Betty bristled at his sudden proximity, warmth passing over her from head to toe. Childishly, she responded to his tone with a stubborn glare. His face was uncomfortably close. He was so tall that even while she was standing on the footstool, he almost reached her shoulders.

He met her look with an amused smile, but his eyes slowly tracked up to the mistletoe she was now holding above their heads.

“Huh,” he said blankly, his expression oddly vacant.

Betty let go of the mistletoe as soon as she understood what had happened. The mistletoe stayed firmly in place just above them. “You did this on purpose,” she accused.

The typical brightness to his eyes hadn’t returned, but he raised an eyebrow wryly. “Sometimes I wonder just how much you think I’m capable of.”

“Well, I won’t kiss you just because you happen to be standing there.” She turned away, closing her eyes tight. Her face felt so warm that in the moment she feared it might actually melt off.

“Okay,” was all that he said.

She opened her eyes to look at him. Why wasn’t he teasing her? Why wasn’t he pushing?

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I’m not going to pressure you into kissing me, Betty.”

“Here I thought you would mock me for ignoring tradition.”

“Your tradition, not mine,” he said with a small smile.

Somehow, this only annoyed her more. With one last glance between them, he started to turn away. Before she could talk herself out of it, before she could even think, she pulled him back and pressed her lips to his.

 _Oh no_ , she thought as soon as their lips met. A quiver ran through her, his warmth overwhelming her senses. Below them, there was a dull sound of something hitting the pavement, but it felt universes away. As soon as Jughead cupped both his hands at her cheeks, the rest of reality failed to exist completely. His lips were warm and soft, his hands achingly gentle. She felt as if she were dissolving, melting into him, so close she could practically feel his thoughts, the echoes of her name in his mind.

The noisy screech of the trolley wheels violently threw Betty back to reality. She pulled away from Jughead and awkwardly stumbled off of the stool.

“Hey, I found these snowman displays,” said Ethel. “Might be good to set up for the kids.” 

“Yes,” Betty answered, her voice squeaking unnaturally. “That would be perfect.”

Ethel looked between Betty and Jughead, noticing the strange tension in the air. Thankfully, she did not speak of it, and instead glanced down at the ground. “Oh, you dropped your mug.” The cap had come clean off, and it’s contents had spilled through the edges of the cobblestone street.

“Yeah,” Jughead said after clearing his throat. “I’ll clean it up.”

Betty was determined to pretend that nothing had happened, which was complicated by the fact that Jughead was apparently equally determined to stick around.

First, he helped assemble the tree inside the tent, and then he sat with Midge to unwrap the rest of the ornaments as Ethel and Betty started to decorate.

“Ohhh,” Midge cooed as she pulled a small angel ornament up and let it dangle from her finger. “Doesn’t it kind of look like Betty?” It was a simple ornament in white robes of fabric, feather wings, a thin wire halo, and a distinct ponytail made of yellow yarn.

“Hmm,” Jughead said, inspecting the ornament with playful seriousness. “You know, if this was really supposed to be a proper angel, it’d probably creep you out. Just a whole bunch of eyes and wings, more than the human mind can fathom.”

“I know what you mean. I love how unsettling biblical angels are,” Ethel said with some excitement. 

“Better than demons, those are positively grotesque,” Betty quipped. “Angels are being of goodwill. Demons are like self-centered bloodhounds. They hunt down whatever their heart desires.”

“Why are we talking about demons?” Midge stage whispered to Ethel. 

Jughead’s eyes met Betty’s, smiling knowingly in such a way that left her whole body tingling. To hide her growing blush, she turned and practically fell face first into the tree.

“Be careful,” Midge said kindly, but with a laugh. “We don’t have a replacement.  
  


By the end of the second day, the tent finally looked like a proper source of holiday celebration. Lights were hanging along the roof; assembled outside was a display of cute characters, and decorative mistletoe for the couples walking by. However, like the night before, no one who walked by engaged with it. Betty’s brilliant mistletoe idea went completely ignored.

As Ethel and Midge were heading out for the night, Betty shooed Jughead away with them. If their hard work was going to go unrecognized, then she would find out why. As people walked by, she hailed them down, and like a holiday investigative reporter, she took note of what they wanted out of the Christmas celebration.

“Oh, this stuff is up every year,” a few of them laughed. 

“I didn’t even notice the difference,” one man said, blinking as she pointed out all of their hard work.

“Well, we don’t have the Archies performing this year,” one person said. “That was the highlight of my year. Seems kind of pointless to come out, you know.”

By the time Betty made it back to Jughead’s house, she was fuming. 

“What am I doing wrong?” She was pacing, circling from one end of the living room to the other. “Why aren’t people in this town realizing how much they are putting on the shoulders of just a few people?”

Jughead’s eyes followed her as she kept up her pacing, seated just at the edge of the couch, his long legs bent awkwardly to keep the space open for her to walk. “Used to it being taken care of every year, I guess. They don’t see why this year should be any different.”

She felt herself fuming. “Then they have been complacent year after year. Ethel and Midge, they have already been working so hard. I just want things to go well for them this year. So why does it feel no one is noticing?”

“Betty, it might just seem that way because you’ve gotten so invested in it.”

Betty turned toward him suddenly, her frustration passing through her in one sharp movement. “Of course I’m invested!” The words came out much harsher than she’d intended, the emotion ripped through her, as though it had been pulled by force.

She didn’t fully realize that her body had shifted with it until she saw Jughead’s expression, but at the look on his face, she became aware that the room was too bright, that her field of vision had grown. She felt the familiar weight of wings on her back. She might have thought Jughead would mock her for it, her overreaction, her lack of control, but he was staring up at her in utmost reverence.

“There you are,” he said, as if he had been waiting for this moment for an eternity. His words were soft, thick with emotion. “You’re so beautiful.”

It was only in the moment, seeing that look on his face, that she realized that this was what she had wanted from him all along.

Before he had even taken another breath, her hands were pulling him toward her, her talons digging into the fabric of his jacket. When their lips met it was with desperation. Her body pressed into his chest, they were as close as two human forms could be, and it still wasn’t enough.

She wanted more of him. She wanted to dig into the crevasse of his soul until she had individually touched everything there was to find. As if knowing her every desire, Jughead’s body shifted under her touch, melted against her, into her. They were no longer anything resembling humans. They had left the physical world behind.

Betty could reach inside him and feel his heart beating. She could run her fingers along each thread, feel each variation in his emotions, caress them and play them like an instrument made only for her. 

In turn, she felt herself sigh as Jughead reached back, tenderly searching, past the rules and obligations that governed her, past her walls and walls of excuses. He looked deep into her soul for the roots of feelings she didn’t even know were there. His warm breath awakened them, blooming inside her, alighting her with sudden, sharp bursts of energy. It made every untouched part of her tingle and spark.

With another breath, he was worshiping her name, not with human tongue, but with the sound of ancients, a name she had not been called in thousands of years. He pled his very soul in devotion to her, and it filled every hollow, lonely piece of her to the brim, filling her with light that compounded into hot, blinding ecstasy. 

Ever slowly, she felt her body returning to the physical world. At first she was only aware of her heavy breathing, then of her limbs, her legs against the floor and bridged across Jughead’s hips. Her human form returned slowly, like ice forming across a warm piece of glass. From under her, Jughead was stretched out across the floor, his chest heaving to catch his breath, his shirt completely torn to threads.

Before he could speak, she was on her feet, her legs struggling to find purchase while her whole body was shaking.

“Betty,” he said, almost pleading, as if even a simple word would scare her away. He reached a hand toward her, but as he started to sit up, she turned and ran. Out of the living room, toward the door, as fast as she could. “Betty,” she heard him call again, more desperate this time. Then, “Baby.” 

But she was gone.

  
  


Without really thinking about it, she found herself back at the tent. It was much later now, but she didn’t bother looking up at the sky to determine the time. The outside of the tent was bright with festive lights, inside was all shadow. In the quiet, it was impossible to escape her own thoughts. The things she didn’t want to focus on. The things she didn’t want to admit. So instead, she curled up next to the stack of remaining boxes and let herself sleep.

She woke up to the soft sound of Jughead’s voice. It was pitch black around her, and it took her a moment to realize it was because she was encompassed by her own wings. Even as she peeked through them, it was still dark, still late.

Jughead was kneeling beside her, his hand comfortingly at the base of one of her wings. “C’mon, this isn’t any place to sleep.” His voice was quiet and gentle, none of the frustration she had expected from him.

“How did you know I was here?” she mumbled.

“Not exactly difficult to guess. Even if it wasn’t, I can always find you. You know that already.”

Then, with the most tender of touches, he encased her in his arms, and carried her out of the tent.


End file.
